


Write that down so you don't forget

by MsPeppernose



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3532904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/pseuds/MsPeppernose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete & Mikey and a sharpie...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Write that down so you don't forget

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote myself a treat to distract myself from all the things i should be doing.  
> Shameless smut. Not sorry.  
> Unbetad.

Mikey’s bored. He’s been bored for a little while but so far he’s been quite patient. 

He’s in Pete’s house and they’re supposed to be going out for sushi. Accept they were supposed to leave almost an hour ago, but so far they’re still on the couch because Pete’s not ready. Pete’s only job before they leave is to sign a bunch of merch so that it’s all ready to be picked up and then shipped off. The only problem is that Pete drastically underestimated how long signing all of it will take and it’s taken far beyond the time he allocated.

Pete’s hunched over the coffee table, sharpie in hand, signing his way through a stack of CDs. He’s already signed a whole bunch of posters which are now in a neat pile on the kitchen table, but he still has what looks like a hundred vinyl records still to do. Mikey’s sprawled beside him, now completely slumped.   
Watching Pete sign and sign and sign is worse than watching paint dry.

“Nearly done?” Mikey asks, though he knows the answer.  
Pete gives him a look that says he’s fed up. He gestures at the large pile of records in front of him and sighs. “Yeah, any second now.”  
“Will we do sushi another day?”  
“No. I’m signing super quick I promise. I want to have sushi with you.”  
Mikey sits forward so that he’s leaning over the coffee table too. “Will I sign some?”  
“Dude, you can’t. Fall Out Boy stuff signed my Mikey Way? That shit will sell on eBay for sure, but Patrick will kill me.” Pete’s amused at the idea and Mikey’s pleased he made Pete smile.  
“What if I fake your signature instead?”  
“Nah you can’t do that. I’d feel bad for some kid who gets a forged signature. It won’t look the same anyway.”  
“It’s just a squiggle that sort of looks like a P.”  
Pete scowls. “Hey, it’s totally not. It’s a cool signature. Here, I’ll show you.”

Pete takes Mikey’s wrist in his hand and pulls up his sleeve. Holding Mikey’s arm steady with one hand he signs his name in wide looping letters over Mikey’s forearm. It’s bigger than any of the autographs he’s been doing on the CDs and posters and Mikey’s thanks god a little. If Pete had been writing great big signatures like this the whole time they would never get to leave the house at all.

“See?”  
“Yeah. It’s a nice squiggle, but it’s a squiggle.”

Pete narrows his eyes at Mikey like he’s not entirely pleased but there’s a playful glint too. “It’s not a squiggle. Do I need to draw more of them on you?”  
Mikey hides a smile. There’s a challenge in there somewhere. “Go on then.”

Pete raises an eyebrow and tugs Mikey’s sleeve up further. He turns Mikey’s arm over and brushes his finger down the soft skin on the inside, from the crook of his elbow all the way down to Mikey’s wrist, and Mikey fights a shiver at Pete’s gentle touch. Pete begins to write again, and his time when he gets to the end Mikey laughs. It reads ‘Pete was here’. Not quite his signature.

“Careful, Pete. You’ll end up wearing that pen.”  
“I will? You gonna autograph me?” Pete’s eyes are wide with excitement and feigned innocence. 

Mikey says nothing, just smirks and goes to grab the sharpie from Pete. Pete pulls it away at first, and then hesitantly hands it over. Mikey’s at a disadvantage considering that Pete’s arms are already mostly covered in black ink. If he tries to fit his doodles in between the lines they’ll get lost among the tattoo work. He darts a look at Pete’s face and then pulls up the hem of Pete’s shirt to expose the golden skin on Pete’s hip. Pete jerks a little and then laughs, but stays completely still as Mikey trails his finger over the skin like he’s prepping the area. Mikey starts to write his name, slowly and deliberately, and when he’s done he sits back. Pete is watching him.

“You have too much other ink on your arm. I needed a fresh canvas.” Mikey shrugs like it’s nothing, but he knows better. Pete rubs his own finger over Mikey’s lettering, smudging the very end of it and then smiles wickedly at Mikey. He pulls his shirt up and off with a tilt of his head and Mikey knows if he was to question Pete why, he’d say something like it’s to save it from getting ink on it. But they’ve started something now and Mikey can’t wait for more.

“Okay, my turn,” Pete says and takes the pen again. He pushes Mikey gently backwards so that Mikey’s lying against the back of the sofa again and then Pete leans over him. Pete pulls Mikey’s shirt up, and not just up a few inches like Mikey did. He pulls it all the way up to Mikey’s ribs and holds it there with one hand while he trails over Mikey’s flat stomach with the other. He has a look of fierce concentration on his face when he begins to draw a little picture on the upper section of Mikey’s abdomen. He draws what seems to be stick figure people and Mikey does his best to keep still while Pete works. 

“Oops. Made a mistake,” Pete says and licks his finger before rubbing it over the newly inked skin. Pete’s fingers were warm already but now the saliva lets them slide over the skin easily and Mikey’s breath catches. Pete ducks his head a covers the same skin with his mouth. Pete’s tongue is hotter, and the first touch of it makes Mikey jump. Pete licks lightly with the flat of his tongue and then rubs again with his finger. His mouth then covers new skin, skin previously untouched by the sharpie as he kisses his way along Mikey’s bottom rib from the centre to the edge and then all the back to the other side. Mikey wants more.

Pete pulls Mikey’s shirt up further, but then changes his mind and sits back up. “Actually just take it off,” he says. “Need more skin.” He arches his eyebrow and Mikey is compliant; he knows that look in Pete’s eyes well enough to give him whatever he wants. It will be worth it. He pulls his shirt off easily and then lies back down. Pete is back to hovering over him in a second and he leans in close and kisses Mikey’s mouth, easing Mikey’s lips apart with his tongue before delving inside. He works his tongue around Mikey’s mouth slowly, exploring and tasting him and Mikey has to slide his hands up Pete’s arms and curl them around his biceps to hold on. The kiss doesn’t last long, and soon Pete’s places a few small kisses on Mikey’s neck before settling back down to restart his artwork, this time on Mikey’s chest.

“What are you drawing?” Mikey says, not that it matters.   
Pete’s fingers are warm pressure on his skin but the pen marks are light and almost tickling. “I drew us. But now I’m drawing little X’s” he says.   
“Like X marks the spot?”  
“Yes. But also because X’s are kisses. So I’m marking where I need to kiss and where I’ve already kissed.” Mikey hums in agreement because that sounds perfect. He feels the scratch of the pen and then arches against it when Pete’s lips follow. It’s just little kisses at first, a delicate line where Pete presses his lips to Mikey’s skin again and again. Then Mikey feels the hot-wetness as Pete parts his lips and uses more of his mouth to cover Mikey’s belly. Mikey has a brief, idle thought as he wonders if the pen has nontoxic ink seeing as Pete is consuming it but that thought is pushed aside when Pete scrapes his teeth down the skin just above Mikey’s naval. 

Pete’s heading south, moving down, down towards Mikey’s waistband, but before he gets there he changes direction and kisses back up to Mikey’s ribs, and Mikey guesses it’s along the path of X’s he’s drawn. 

“Wanna make you come,” Pete sticks the pen between his teeth so that he can use both of his hands to work Mikey’s jeans open and push them down, his underwear following closely after. Pete strokes Mikey’s dick and Mikey moans so Pete does it again. He takes the pen from his mouth and leans over Mikey to kiss him and it’s full body contact this time. Pete feels so good against Mikey as their bare chests press together and the friction of Pete’s jeans against Mikey’s erection is just what Mikey needs. There’s a few minutes with them just grinding their hips together and deep kisses but not much more than that before Pete pulls away. Mikey could probably come like this, rubbing himself off on Pete’s jeans but he knows that Pete won’t let him. Pete’s going to go slow on purpose but Mikey’s pretty sure he’s fine with that too. 

Pete slides down Mikey’s body placing a few wet kisses on his way, presumably where some of his little X’s are drawn. Mikey spreads his legs when Pete nudges them wider and then Mikey feels the tickle of the sharpie on the inside of his thigh. It feels like he’s drawing more X’s but it could be anything. 

Pete reads his mind. “I’m drawing kisses. Not X’s, but mouth marks, for where I’m going to put my mouth.” He draws a quick one on Mikey’s chest to show him, and it’s a crude drawing that’s like the outline of a lipstick mark but in black pen, but then he’s back down to the inside of Mikey’s thighs to continue what he was doing.

Mikey’s so hard, and the close proximity of Pete’s hands and mouth and warm breath to his dick are making him harder. Pete gets into a rhythm of pen marks followed by licking and nibbling and he works his way over Mikey’s thighs and hips. Mikey thinks that by now he must be half covered in ink but he’s beyond caring. He surrenders to the feeling of Pete’s mouth on his skin. 

“I’m not going to draw all over your dick, but I’m going to draw more X’s here,” Pete says. He trails his finger over the skin right up close to Mikey’s balls. “And here.” He skims his fingertip down the crease of Mikey’s thigh. “And probably here,” he says and rubs the skin at the very base of Mikey’s dick. Basically Pete’s touching him everywhere without actually touching his dick, and it’s maddening.

Mikey feels the nib of the pen scratch over the skin at the crease of his thigh which is quickly followed by the wonderful feeling of Pete’s tongue as he ducks his head to lick over the area. There’s another scratch of the pen on Mikey’s pubic bone and then Pete licks around the base of Mikey’s dick, but Pete is taking his sweet time. Mikey shifts a little, tries to get closer to Pete’s mouth. “Come on,” he says, his voice rasping. He’s not above begging if it means he gets more of Pete. “Come on.”

“So bossy,” Pete smirks. But then Pete seems to abandon the idea of drawing and writing and much to Mikey’s approval, concentrates on sliding his mouth down over Mikey’s dick.

Pete’s mouth is tight around him and he goes all the way down to the base before pulling off and sinking down a second time. He plays with the head a little, swiping his tongue around the crown, running the tip of his tongue along the slit over and over. He’s taking Mikey apart and Mikey just lies there, hands clawing at the couch and trying not to fuck right up into Pete’s mouth. Pete hums around Mikey and the vibrations run straight into Mikey’s blood and set him on fire. His hips thrust up again and he feels his dick bump the back of Pete’s throat. 

Pete pulls off a little but not enough to affect how Mikey’s feeling. He knows he’s close, and he knows Pete knows it too. His muscles thighs clench and release and he’s keening, gasping. He swallows dry, his mouth parched from his heavy, open mouthed breathing and it ends in a gasp when Pete swirls his tongue again. 

The pen is still in Pete’s hand as he grips Mikey’s hip to hold him down and every time Mikey bucks his hips, more squiggles get drawn on Mikey’s skin. It just adds to the sensation and the sensory overload of Pete’s lips and tongue and hands. Pete’s mouth is tight heat as he sinks all the way down to meet his fingers. He starts a near perfect rhythm with his hand and his lips and Mikey knows he’s close. 

He’s fighting Pete’s hold involuntarily as his hips try to leave the couch, bucking and writhing. The heat is building in his belly, and he’s so close now. Pete applies perfect pressure in a slow drag of his tongue along the underside and then sucks hard on the head and Mikey’s done. He groans long and low as he comes down Pete’s throat, and Pete’s a trooper swallowing what he can and sucking Mikey till he’s spent. Mikey’s not sure how long he’s lying there for but he’s only half aware of Pete moving from between his legs to sit up.

Pete kisses him and Mikey gathers what’s left of his energy and pushes him up. He wants to get his hands on Pete, and then his mouth. He wants to make him hard, make him squirm, mark him with his pen and maybe his teeth too until he’s breathless and desperate. 

“Okay. Now it’s my turn again. Take your pants off,” Mikey says, taking the pen from Pete’s hand. Pete has pen on his face, smudged black on his lip and down his chin from licking the ink. Pete smirks and pulls his jeans off but Mikey leaves Pete with his boxer briefs still on. For now. 

Pete’s hard and straining against his underwear even though Mikey’s barely touched him yet, so Mikey rubs along the hard line of his dick and Pete’s hips jerk. Mikey stops for a second to think about what he might do. He thinks he could draw some sort of pornographic doodle, or maybe lots of little X’s like Pete did. He thinks maybe he could just be obvious and draw cartoons of dicks all over Pete or an arrow from his chest to his dick with a sign that says ‘suck here’. But then he has a better idea and takes the pen to begin to write. He starts at one side, right beside Pete’s hip and writes carefully and slowly. As he writes, Pete tries to look down to see but it’s all upside down for him and Mikey smirks at Pete’s frown.

“Want to know what it says?”  
“Yeah.”   
“It’s a list.”  
“What sort of list?”  
Mikey gives him a look. “My grocery list.” Pete rolls his eyes. “It’s a list of things I might do to you. Ideas,” Mikey clarifies. 

Pete looks interested but he doesn’t speak or ask for further details. Mikey continues. He rubs his finger under where he’s been writing, and the touch is so light that it makes Pete whimper. “This bit says ‘maybe I’ll suck Pete off’ and here I wrote ‘maybe I’ll finger Pete.’ See?”

Pete can’t see the words but it doesn’t seem to matter. He scrubs both hands over his face. “Fuck.” Mikey palms Pete’s dick again and Pete moans. Mikey rubs his fingers down Pete’s thigh and writes again. “Right here I’m writing ’maybe Pete wants to fuck me’ and on your other thigh I’m going to write ‘maybe Pete will jerk off all over Mikey.’” He trails his hand over Pete’s thigh, the one he hasn’t touched yet, and Pete arches his hips up a little.

Mikey kisses his way across Pete’s stomach, just where the elastic of his boxers meets his skin and Pete’s hips twitch at the contact. Mikey mouths his way along the seam of the fabric, all the way down one side and then back up the other side, completely skirting Pete’s dick.

He’s squirming a little, trying to get more of Mikey’s mouth on him. Mikey obliges, but only through the cotton of Pete’s boxers. He presses his forehead to Pete’s abdomen and kisses the head of Pete’s dick, licks at the wet spot that’s forming and makes it bigger. Pete moans and strokes his hand through Mikey’s hair and he whines when Mikey moves away.

"What do you think?”  
“Yeah, let me do that,” Pete says and he’s breathless, and Mikey smiles because yes, he really wants for Pete to do that too.  
“Let you write it?” Mikey asks, though he knows that’s not what Pete means, not even close.  
“No, let me jerk off on you.”

“Do it.” Pete looks wrecked. His eyes are lidded and he looks pretty far gone, but he’s so, so gorgeous. He pushes his boxers off and climbs on top on Mikey, kissing him hard and deep and perfect. Pete’s lips are soft and wet and he’s so turned on, humming against Mikey’s mouth as he kisses and licks. Pete rocks his hips against Mikey, grinding hard and then sits back to straddle his waist. His dick is flushed and curved hard up against his belly and he’s leaking precome. He wraps his hand around himself and starts to move, both his fist and his hips, as he begins to jerk himself off in earnest.

He slides his dick though his fist again and again, with that same look of concentration on his face, though this time his lip is caught between his teeth and his eyes are closed. He works his hand furiously and moans when Mikey fits his hands to Pete’s hips, holding him steady and tight. His hips roll in time as he fucks his hand over and over again. Pete’s so fucking beautiful like this and Mikey tells him so. He gives Pete encouragement and mumbles endearments; _so beautiful, so fucking perfect, come on, so pretty, want to see you come, come all over me._

On Mikey’s last words, Pete moans and comes, spilling hot over Mikey’s belly and over their now messed up drawings. He breathes and breathes, and Mikey just continues to hold him upright as best he can and tell him how fucking hot that was.

Pete eventually moves, though it takes a while, seemingly lost in the white out of orgasm, and he lies wedged between Mikey and the sofa, with his head on Mikey’s bicep.

Mikey looks at the random pen marks and black ink smeared on the sofa cushions. “Your housekeeper’s going to kill you.”  
“She already hates me.”  
“Maybe ‘cause you make her clean shitty pen marks off your couch.” Pete ignores him and Mikey thinks maybe Pete’s housekeeper has had to deal with worse than random sharpie marks. He looks down along their bodies and laughs. They’re a mess of come and smudged drawings. “So I guess we’re not going for sushi?”  
“I’ll call that place that delivers,” Pete says and reaches down to grab his phone out of his jeans pocket, and Mikey hopes that by then at least one of them will be presentable enough to answer the door.

Mikey half-heartedly wipes them both with Pete’s balled up shirt. “Does sharpie wash off or am I going to have to walk around with obscene doodles on me? Or worse, Pete Wentz’s autograph all over me?”

Pete gives him a disapproving look but then his face softens and he smiles. “It comes off. But we need to wash it properly.” He props himself up on one elbow so that he’s braced over Mikey. “Go run a bath for us and we can eat the sushi in there.”  
“Will you wash my back for me?” Mikey asks.  
“I’ll wash your dick for you,” Pete counters. He kisses him and it’s slow and perfect. “You’ll have to believe me but I drew some pretty awesome things down there.”

“Don’t you have to finish signing all those records?”  
Pete kisses him again. “After.”


End file.
